


this time will fade out tonight

by mmxii



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, M/M, New Year's Eve, also like uhhh minor character death??, but like it happens off screen and its just a quick mention, it deals a bit with evens reactions tho and like his thoughts about it, its no one you know tho dont worry the character doesnt even have a name but yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 09:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmxii/pseuds/mmxii
Summary: Even has always loved New Year’s Eve. Loves how it feels like closure, like starting over, like letting go. Loves the feeling that from now on, anything is possible.But maybe it's not that simple.or, five times when even doesn’t get the ending he wants, and one where it doesn’t matter





	this time will fade out tonight

**Author's Note:**

> ok so.... i actually started writing this a year ago, but then i didnt manage to finish it before new years or even the day after so then i just left it bc it felt too irrelevant idk. BUT. i still had like 7k and i didnt want to just leave it in my google docs forever, so i finished it now instead and.... here we are?? yay??
> 
> this is partly inspired by my own life (like about 50% of my other fics lbh) bc i have no imagination at all lmao. also bc i have a lot of mixed feeling about this time of year that i needed to..... deal with. so i let even deal with them too (sorry even). anyways, this got sad at times, so im sorry for that too. hopefully the other parts make up for it?? maybe??? ehhh, who knows
> 
> also... just wanna mention again that theres a minor character death in this... like i said in the tags: just a quick mention, happens off screen, unnamed character. but yeah. feel free to skip part 4 (iv) if you dont want to read about that.
> 
> title from ‘the a team’ by ed sheeran. (or well, i changed one of the words, but still)

_i._

 

“Which way are we going?”

 

Isak’s words feel too loud between them, despite being surrounded by exploding fireworks every other second. Not that Even really hears them anyway, having enough trouble picking out Isak’s voice as it is, the feeling of worry building and building and the volume of it increasing inside his head faster than he knows how to deal with. It’s like there’s no room for any other noise after that.

 

Up until this point, Even hasn’t seen any downsides to this day. He has always loved New Year’s Eve. Loves how it feels like closure, like starting over, like letting go. Loves the feeling that from now on, anything is possible.

 

And, that’s all still true. However, he’s never before thought about how their way of celebrating turns into overwhelming fear for other species.

 

Not until now, when he’s walking through snow deep enough to almost reach his knees, hand shaking from anxiety as he fumbles for the small flashlight in his pocket. Not until now when he tries to hold on to the most important of his never-ending thoughts: find Iris.

 

He knows it would probably be a lot easier to just wait until it all stops, let her come back by herself. Knows it’s like finding a needle in a haystack but he can’t just sit and wait this out. He needs to do something. Or at least feel as if he is.

 

Even eventually manages to get the flashlight out, then comes to a stop next to Isak by the edge of the forest that starts where Even’s backyard ends. Letting out a shudder -- fuck it’s so  _cold_ outside, despite all the clothes he’s wearing. The cat is going to be  _freezing_ after over an hour out here -- he uses the light to look for her, or at least any clues as to which way she went. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.

 

Even lets out a sigh, tries to push some of his panic out with it. “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t see any pawprints in the snow. Do you?”

 

“No.” There’s silence between them for a few seconds before it’s broken by another colourful explosion. “Let’s just start walking this way,” Isak says, words slightly rushed but still sounding determined as he points to his left. “Maybe we’ll find some in a bit.”

 

And even though it isn't much of a reassurance, Even still feels himself relax.

 

It doesn’t last long, however, because for every step they take, for every step they take and find  _nothing_ , Even’s panic kicks up a notch.

 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been out here, only knows it’s  _too_ long, and he’s tired and even sweating now from the combination of too many layers and him getting closer to running than walking as the worry just keeps growing inside him.

 

Then he’s hit with another thought that does nothing but add to his already too-high levels of panic.

 

“What time is it?” he asks, throwing a quick glance behind him just to make sure Isak is still there.

 

“I don’t -- could you  _slow down?_ ”

 

“We don’t have time!” Even exclaims, sounding more angry than he had intended. This kind of stress is not doing him any favours, but he also can’t stop it.

 

He can’t let the year end like this. Can’t start the new one with all these negative feelings taking up this much space. Because while he does like the idea of being able to start over and let go, he knows it doesn’t really work like that. The last year and everything it contained doesn’t disappear just because the clock changes from 23.59 to 00.00. One second doesn’t have that much power.  

 

That’s why he needs both sides to work out at least mostly in his favour. Needs to find something good to hold on to as he steps over that line.

 

But now? He can’t remember anything even resembling positivity.

 

Silently counting to ten, he tries to focus on his breathing. Then he speaks again, and while his anger has subsided enough to at least touch the edge of nonexistent by now, the anxiety still makes itself visible by the way he almost trips over his words. “There’s probably only like, minutes left and it’s not enough time, I can’t--”

 

“We’ve still got half an hour,” Isak interrupts him, making Even come to a sudden halt, turning to face him.

 

“Really?”

 

Isak directs a small smile at him, insecure yet steady, as he waves the hand still holding a phone in the air for a second before putting it back in his pocket. “Yeah, I just checked. 23.33.”

 

Even takes a deep breath. Okay. Twenty-seven minutes. A lot can happen in twenty-seven minutes. The year doesn’t have to end in total disaster. He still has time to fix this.

 

Slightly less stressed out, he manages to slow down his steps a bit, putting him and Isak next to each other.

 

The following ten minutes pass without much happening. They try to find any sight of her small footprints in the thick blankets of snow, stop to listen for any sound that could be coming from her. But all they can hear is the quiet of the forest mixed with the noise of the fireworks. They walk further into the forest, then turn around to go back, searching every centimeter for signs.

 

As they turn to make their way deeper into the forest for the eleventh time, Even is starting to feel the pressure of time again, and he’s about to ask Isak to check his phone when something happens that makes him forget all about time and New Year’s and stupid fucking fireworks.

 

One second they're walking next to each other and then the next they’re not, and it takes Even a moment to realise, but when he turns to where Isak just was he can’t stop the laugh that bursts out at the sight he’s presented with.

 

For a moment, he sees nothing but snow and the back of Isak’s black jacket. Then Isak uses his arms to push his upper body out of the snow, letting out a loud “Fuck!” that only makes Even laugh harder.

 

“Shut up,” Isak mutters, brushing snow off of his face and then taking his beanie off to shake that free of snow as well.

 

Most of the front of his jacket is still covered, however, and his legs are all gone, and that whole picture, complete with the frown on Isak’s face and the snowflakes still clinging to parts of his hair makes Even let out another laugh.

 

“That was hilarious, you just...  _disappeared_ ,” he says between giggles as he steps closer.

 

Isak pouts at him. “This is all your fault.”

 

“How? I’m not in charge of controlling your movements, am I? You’re the one who forgot how to walk all of a sudden.”

 

“That’s not what happened!” Isak argues. “I fell because I stepped in a hole I couldn’t even see because of all this stupid snow.”

 

Even smirks at him. “Why are you so set on blaming this on anything but yourself and your inability to properly walk?”

 

It was meant as a joke, but judging by the way Isak’s eyebrows draw together in a frown, he’s not in the mood for humour.

 

“Why are  _you_ so set on blaming this on me when all I’m trying to do is help you?”

 

_Help him._

 

And then Even is suddenly hit with the reminder of why they’re out here in the first place, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the flood of panic that washes over him.

 

It must be visible on the outside as well, because Isak is quick to drag his focus back to him.

 

“Hey, Even.  _Even._ Relax.” His words are calm, but it does nothing to decrease Even’s levels of anxiety, which are quickly approaching  _panic attack_ , and  _fuck_ , he doesn’t want this, wants it to stop but he just--

 

“I can’t! I don’t know where she is and it’s so cold and it’s been almost two hours now and--”

 

“ _Even._ ”

 

“-- what if we don’t find her? What if she’s--”

 

Before he can finish his sentence, Isak reaches out to grab onto one of his hands, then  _pulls_. The movement is so unexpected he barely has time to catch himself before he lands in the snow, face first. As soon as his brain processes the situation, he’s quick to push himself up out of the cold.

 

“What the fuck, Isak?” Even splutters as he brushes snow off his face.

 

Isak doesn’t look sorry at all. “You need to relax,” he tells him. “We will find her. I promise.”

 

“You can’t promise that!”

 

“Yes, I can,” Isak says, then he smiles. “You know I can see the future, right? I know everything that’s gonna happen. So I know we’ll find her.”

 

“You can see into the future?”

 

“That’s what I just said.”

 

Even takes a breath and listens to the silence of the forest. Tries to just breathe. Then Isak breaks the quiet.

 

“Too bad you’re gonna become a huge nerd, though.”

 

Even meets his eyes, sees the teasing tilt of his mouth, and can’t help but mirror it.

 

“I mean, even more than you are,” Isak adds, making Even raise his eyebrows at him.

 

“Oh, yeah? What else?”

 

Isak shrugs, then puts his beanie back on and leans backwards to lie down in the snow like it’s no big deal. Like it’s not starting to cool him down from the outside in, getting deep enough to chill his very bones like it’s doing to Even. “Well,” he pretends to think, folding his arms under his head. “What do you want to know?”

 

Even doesn’t say anything at first. He takes a moment to take this all in. Isak. The snow. The trees all around them. This night. The stars that are barely visible through the constant colours filling up the sky.

 

The feeling in his chest.

 

Then Iris. The panic, anxiety, stress.

 

The new year. Leaving things in the past. Moving on to new possibilities.

 

He lies down too, next to Isak. Turns his head to the side, takes a few seconds to watch the way Isak watches the sky. Then he speaks.

 

“Will next year be better than this one?”

 

Isak shifts, locking their eyes together. In the distance, he can hear some of his neighbours yell  _Happy new year!_ , and he thinks about how some people say that what you’re doing at midnight on New Year’s Eve somehow represents what you’re gonna do the next year or at least gives an idea of what it will look like.

 

And despite Iris still being lost, despite the stupid fireworks that just keep getting bigger and louder the longer they lie here, Even wouldn’t mind if that were true. Because if he can have this -- him and Isak, and this ray of happiness and comfort they can create together even when things seem dark, he knows that the rest will find a way to work out as well.

 

“Yes,” Isak says. “It’s just gonna get better and better from here.”

 

+

 

As it turns out, Isak is not very good at predicting the future.

 

Because while the new year started on top, with him and Isak and finally --  _finally_ \-- finding Iris hiding under a tree only a few meters away from where they had lied in the snow, it’s not only upwards from there. Life doesn’t work that way.

 

These two days, though. These days and their clear cut between  _then_ and _now_ might have been tainted by their first batch of negativity, but that doesn’t affect Even’s overall feelings for them. He still loves them and their way of filling him with excitement. That’s not going to change this easily.

  


_ii._

 

He should’ve known this would happen. Should have known he couldn’t get even  _this_ day to stay the same, to keep being that constant point of happiness no matter what else is going on in his life.

 

He should have known not even  _this_ could make things brighter.

 

Because the only way he even knows what day it is is by the colours of light coming through the window and reflecting on the walls of his room.

 

They’re just like him, he thinks. The way they shoot across the sky, full of life and sparks, only to reach a breaking point, resulting in an explosion where the remnants have no choice but to fall helplessly in the darkness, eventually crashing to the ground.

 

He hates them and the pain they cause.

 

Pot, kettle, black.

 

He closes his eyes.

 

The last time he looked at the clock only a minute had passed since the time before that, even though it felt like an hour. This time it’s the other way around; the last hour felt more like a minute. And it’s still too early for all these lights.

 

He feels nothing.

 

Before he knows it, the lights are gone, disappearing along with time and leaving nothing but darkness behind.

 

+

 

The next time he wakes up it’s almost light outside, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing has changed in one night.

 

He had hoped it would. He’s still trying to hold on to that small spark of hope, of light, but he knows it’ll take longer than this.

 

He reaches a hand out for his phone, only to find it dead. Without a way of telling the passing of time, he closes his eyes again.

 

By the time he manages to send a glance out the window it’s getting darker again. The quick change of light comes as no surprise. Something that does, however, is the snowflakes sailing through the air.

 

He watches them for a moment, watches them fall and fall and fall until he needs to close his eyes again because he feels too cold. As he pulls the blankets closer to himself, one hand meets something soft he had forgotten all about until now.

 

The gift.

 

That stupid christmas gift Isak had given him; a stuffed penguin -- a dumb inside joke taken too far.

 

He brings it closer, holds on, and breathes. Thinks of Isak.

 

And while it’s not much, that tiny moment of feeling something other than  _nothing_ still makes a difference.

  


_iii._

 

**Isak**    

 

**20.51**

Happy new year!!! 

 

**20.51**

It’s only 20.51??

 

**20.52**

So?

 

**20.54**

.....

 

**20.54**

Well, isn’t your bedtime at 21 anyway?

 

**20.55**

ONE TIME

**20.55**

One time I tell you it was too late to hang out just LET IT GO

**20.56**

Also may I remind you that it was like 22.30 on a random tuesday in february and you wanted to take a walk to a mcdonalds that WASN’T EVEN OPEN

 

**20.56**

Let it go? Never. Love this too much

 

**20.57**

 

**20.59**

Anyway... what are you doing tonight?

 

**21.00**

Sorry can’t talk I’m asleep

 

**21.00**

Isaaaaak

**21.03**

Come on

**21.07**

Wanna hang out?

 

**21.08**

I don’t know. I was actually gonna lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling until midnight, I don’t know if I wanna give that up just to see you

 

**21.09**

Come here and we can stare at the ceiling together <3

 

**21.10**

Stupid. Why would I want you there taking up space on the couch

 

**21.10**

Ouch :(

 

**21.11**

Also I thought you were hanging out with your friends tonight

 

**21.11**

I am, but you could still come, they won’t mind. You know they like you

**21.12**

We’re just gonna chill anyway, play video games or something

 

**21.13**

Where?

 

**21.13**

We’re at Adam’s right now

**21.14**

You were here on his birthday, remember?

 

**21.14**

Yeah

 

**21.14**

Great!

**21.16**

Are you leaving now or...?

 

**21.17**

Need to change out of my pyjamas first

 

**21.17**

Ha ha. See you soon then?

 

**21.18**

Yeah yeah

**21.18**

Or maybe not that soon since I need to take like two different busses to get there but yeah

 

**21.20**

Doesn’t matter. I’m just happy you’re coming at all

 

When Isak finally shows up, a little over two hours later, Even and the boys are all standing in the street outside of Adam’s house, just getting some air. It’s been raining on and off all day, so they took advantage of one of the more rare  _off_ moments to see something other than the four walls of Adam’s room for a while.

 

Mikael has brought some fireworks left from last year that he had found in a box in the back of his closet, so that’s what they’re doing as Isak walks up to them -- trying to get the short fuse of the first of them to catch fire.

 

Ever since this day two years ago, when Even first became aware of one of the consequences of the fireworks, he’s been a bit more sceptical about them than he used to be. He still likes the look of them, the way the light spreads across the sky and fills him with that feeling of change and new beginnings.

 

He just wishes they didn’t have to make that much noise.

 

It’s good, then, that the ones Mikael found might not really classify as _fireworks_ exactly, at least not in the traditional sense.

 

The first box he had opened is red, the words “Light bomb” written in bold capitals on the top of it. It’s a misleading name though, at least the latter half of it, because the only sound coming from the three centimeter tall cylinder is a soft fizzle as it lights up the street in bright flashes.

 

The light is strong enough that Even can’t really look straight at it without it hurting his eyes, so he focuses on Isak instead. Asks him if he fell asleep, just to get him to roll his eyes at him, just to see his mouth twitch as he fights a smile, and  _god_.

 

Fuck the future. Fuck starting over and letting go, and fuck everything else. If Even could bottle up this moment and live in it forever he would.

 

Because this is exactly what this part is all about; him, Isak, and fireworks.

 

Before he knows it, there’s only a minute left until midnight, and for all that the boys weren’t in the mood to go to a party, they still care about tradition enough to count down the last ten seconds of the year.

 

Even spends the first six with his head tilted towards the sky, watches explosion after explosion of colour paint the ceiling over the world. Then, at  _four!_ , as Elias pushes Yousef and makes him stumble into Even’s side, Even shifts his gaze lower, and it lands on the person in front of him.

 

Even sees fireworks reflected in Isak’s eyes and all he can think about for the last two seconds of December is what kissing him would feel like.

 

At the strike of zero, their eyes meet, and Even thinks he has an idea.

 

+

 

They get four minutes into the new year before the rain starts to pour down,  _again_. So they hurry back inside to continue their celebrations there instead. Not that what they’re doing is strictly celebrating or even any different than what they do any other day, but still.

 

They end up in Adam’s room again, which is a tight fit now with the seven of them. Adam sits down on the floor to start up his old PS3, the hum of the console a background noise as the rest of them all squeeze in on his bed or onto the floor in front of it to be able to see the screen of the tv. The bed where Even managed to get a spot isn’t very big, which means there’s not much room between him and the person sitting on either side. This isn’t something he would normally think twice about, but this time it’s different. Because one of them is Isak.

 

Even’s right side is only centimeters away from Isak’s left, and even though they’re not touching, this might be worse. He swears he can feel the heat from Isak’s body radiate over to him, and his mind keeps providing him with neverending images of either of them moving closer while trying its best to convince him to actually do it, using the small space as a bait. It wouldn’t take much, just a slight shift where he’s sitting. It wouldn’t even be that unexpected, what with the general lack of space on the bed.

 

Even is a hundred percent sure he won’t survive the night.

 

He doesn’t know when it got to this, though. Doesn’t know when he started overthinking things involving Isak this much. This used to be so simple, so effortless, like second nature.

 

Then, this feeling presented itself and Even can’t think straight anymore.

 

He blames New Year’s for this. This feeling of  _anything is possible!_ that makes him consider his options and makes him want to try, take new paths, move in different directions.

 

The thing is, however, that he’s also so very scared --  _terrified_ \-- of fucking things up. And to try something where the consequences are this uncertain, right  _now_ , past the strike of midnight, really is too much of a risk for him. It doesn’t matter how much he might want it. What if he makes a mistake and starts this year by losing Isak? Starts this year at the worst place imaginable?

 

He doesn’t even want to think about that.

 

“Five hundred and nine?” Mikael exclaims, disbelief written all over his face as he effectively drags Even back to the game on the tv. The game which shows the screen with the results for the round -- with Mutta as the winner -- meaning it’s over yet Even didn’t even notice they started at all. “What the fuck?”

 

Judging by Adam’s expression, he agrees with Mikael’s doubts. “Stop cheating!”

 

“I’m not!” Mutta insists, holding his hands up in surrender, a PS3 controller still clutched tightly in his left one. “How do you even cheat at this?” he continues, “I’m just pressing the buttons and getting it right.”

 

Adam raises an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Over five hundred times in a row?”

 

“That’s just inhuman,” Elias chimes in.

 

Mutta shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I’m the best at this game so... I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

 

“You were never this good before.”

 

“Yeah, have you been practicing?” Adam asks.

 

Yousef lets out a tired sigh, shutting them all up. “ _Guys_ , it’s just because he’s using the controller now. Remember with the guitar? He was useless.”

 

“ _Hey!_ ”

 

“You were though,” Elias agrees, and Mikael nods.

 

“Yeah, it’s true.”

 

Mutta huffs. “You’re just mad because I could easily kick all your asses at this now.”

 

He barely has time to finish the sentence before the other four start talking over each other. Even knows they’re protesting that statement, but he can’t register any of the words after that point, because his mind has switched his focus, making it completely latch onto something else. Something more important.

 

The space that existed between him and Isak up until only seconds ago, small as it might have been, has now disappeared completely. Even doesn’t know which one of them moved, but he’s pretty sure it wasn’t him since he’s spent the past few minutes trying to talk himself out of moving and putting all his attention on staying exactly where he is, almost too scared to do as much as breathe.

 

He chances a quick glance over at Isak, but he’s facing the tv. He’s looking a little flushed, but with the seven of them in here, there’s another logical explanation for that. Even himself has felt overheated since the moment he sat down, although that might not be the best example since at least 75% of that warmth is because of the boy to his right.

 

Just as he’s about to do something stupid -- namely, lean into Isak the tiniest bit, just to test the waters a little, to see if anything happens -- his thoughts are dragged out of were they were headed -- with full speed straight towards either heaven or hell -- by someone saying his name.

 

“Huh?” he asks, looking up to find five pairs of eyes staring at him.

 

“You wanna play?” Yousef asks, shaking a controller in the air between them.

 

“Uh, sure,” Even smiles, grateful for the distraction now, despite how nice it might have been to get lost in the possibilities of those thoughts for a moment.

 

“Then you can prove to Elias that being able to play the guitar for real doesn’t automatically make you good at this game,” Mikael says.

 

“I never said it did!” Elias protests. “I just said it could be an advantage.”

 

Adam holds up a hand, his voice loud enough to get their attention. “ _Guys!_ Did you already forget that the guitar is broken? That’s why we’re using the controller and why Mutta is suddenly unbelievably good at this game.”

 

Mutta pouts. “What is this? ‘Be rude to Mutta’-day?”

 

“Nah,” Mikael says, grinning at him. “It’s ‘hugging Mutta’-day,” he declares, then promptly throws his arms around Mutta in a squeezing hug. The other boys aren’t far behind, and Even watches as the five of them make a pile on the floor, a laughing Mutta at the bottom.

 

Having four teenage boys on top of you soon makes it hard to breathe, though, so at Mutta’s breathy request for them to stop, they all move back to their previous seats, and Even starts up the game again.

 

There’s only one thing on his mind as he plays, except the way his side is firmly pressed against Isak’s from their shoulders down to their knees: the way Isak’s hand had touched his for a fleeting second while the others were busy with the group hug.

 

Even scores an all-time low at the game.

  


_iv._

 

The thing about time is that is just keeps going.

 

It never stops.

 

It’s only been eight days, but it feels like eight minutes. Or eight  _years_. Even can’t tell the difference right now. It wasn’t a surprise, but that doesn’t mean he saw it coming. Because he didn’t. He knew it was inevitable, but he never thought it would happen  _now_.

 

Maybe that’s it, though. Maybe that’s what it’s always like dealing with death.

 

It’s too soon.

 

It’s too soon, but here he is now, pieces of himself still scattered all over the kitchen floor, with no idea how he’ll ever be able to glue them back together. It’s been over a week but he can’t even step foot in that room without getting hit by a wave, disappearing under the surface where no air can find its way into his lungs.

 

He wants to yell  _cut_ , wants to start the scene all over again, because this is not how it was supposed to end. Someone changed the script without telling him, but the difference between this and a movie is that there are no retakes in life. Everything that happens happens, and that’s it.

 

If time heals all wounds, it at least takes longer than eight days. He knows that now. He wishes he didn’t.

 

(And if the feeling he has right now is anything to go by, he suspects it might take longer than eight years, too.)

 

Days have passed but Even can’t remember anything since that phone call, everything blending together in some incomprehensible blur. Like a fog settling around him, making his surroundings seem nothing but surreal, as if belonging in a dream. A nightmare he can’t get out of, one where he can’t wake up, nowhere for him to escape.

 

That’s what it’s like all up until this point; all consuming and ruthless, trying to eat him up from the inside out until this is all he knows. At the same time, he can’t let the thoughts run free for too long. He can’t. Because if he does, if they stay long enough, that means he has to face the truth; this is not a bad dream, but rather the new reality he has to live in from now on. For the rest of his life.

 

But he knows. Deep down, he knows the difference between what’s real and what’s not.

 

Which is why he’s standing here, on this field, mind set on the future. Even likes being in control, but there’s nothing he can do about what happened. The only way he can affect the situation is by deciding what to do next. No looking back. Not focusing on the holes in his heart but instead on what exists around them. It doesn’t work as well as he wishes, but he’s adamant in his attempts to keep trying.

 

It’s cold out here and he forgot to bring his gloves but that’s not why he’s shaking. The matches keep falling from his hands, slipping between his fingers and disappearing in the snow beneath him before he has a chance to rub them against the side of the small box. If he hadn’t been interrupted by a gentle hand placed on his arm, he would have lost them all before managing to light one, but he thanks the universe for not letting that happen. He doesn’t know how much more he can lose, no matter how insignificant the matches might be to his life in general.

 

Holding the lantern isn’t much easier, but at least he doesn’t have to perform any kind of movements with his hands. They still keep shaking, and the fact that Even forgot his gloves doesn’t help, but this he can do. He just needs to hold on until Isak ignites the little cardboard square hanging at the bottom, then wait for the warm air to fill up the space between the thin walls until it’s ready to take off.

 

Lighting a match without the trembling is a quick job, and it’s only seconds later when the flame arises, small at first, then slowly but surely growing and making its way across the square. The lantern grows bigger and bigger, until, finally, it’s time.

 

Time to let go.

 

And it takes a moment, but he can do this. His grip loosens, and then it leaves, the light floating higher, getting smaller every time he blinks.

 

He’s blinking more rapidly than normal, feeling as though everything just passes by in flashes, but there’s something in his eyes that needs to get out. He knows what it is but he doesn’t want to think about it, because it doesn’t matter. There are only minutes left of this year, maybe seconds, and then this won’t matter anymore. Then he can leave everything behind that he doesn’t want to carry with him, start on a new page, without any black smudges taking up space.

 

Because this is not the end. The story will continue. The number of pages growing by the day.

 

He hasn’t quite reached the next chapter yet, though. He still has time to finish this last scene before he has to turn the page.

 

The lantern is gone, but Even keeps staring at the sky. It’s gone, just like  _her_ , and Even is left with an empty space in his heart that keeps echoing, the sound waves painfully bouncing against the walls and shaking his core. And he knows there’s nothing that can ever fill that void, but he’s also sure that no matter how impossible it feels right now, it  _will_ get better.

 

However, that does nothing to stop the tears from continuing to draw invisible lines across his cheeks as gravity grabs them, pushes them down, down, down until they’re one with the snow. Even wishes he could join them, wants to disappear, too.

 

_No._

 

He blinks, his eyes still focused on the spot where the light could last be seen as he tries to take a few deep breaths. It’s not until he feels something against his hand that he manages to tear his gaze away from the stars, finding Isak’s fingers curling around his own, his grip unwavering and firm, but not too tight.

 

Little by little, he can feel the ice melting as warmth spreads through him, radiating from that one source. It’s something small but it’s solid, bringing his focus back as it grounds him where he stands.

 

He closes his eyes, listens to the sounds of fireworks, and holds on to Isak’s hand.

 

Even can’t tell how long they stand there, but he does know he’s getting cold again by the time Isak eventually breaks the silence between them.

 

“Ready to go?”

 

No matter what he answers, Even knows it won’t be completely true. Still, he slowly nods his head, and follows Isak when he starts walking.

 

+

 

Isak doesn’t let go of his hand until they get back inside, and by then it’s a little easier to breathe.

  


_v._

 

Despite having no desire at all to be here, with twenty-three minutes left of the year, Even finds himself at a party. He can’t remember whose house it is, only that it was one of those friend of a friend situations. In this case, Yousef’s friend -- which is why he disappears as soon as the six of them step through the front door.

 

After Yousef leaves, the other boys soon do the same, and one of them asks Even to join them but he doesn’t even register who it is because that’s when he catches sight of Isak across the room. And just like that, any doubts and skepticism he has about being here vanish faster than they appeared in the first place.

 

_This_ is how it should be. This is pretty much a guarantee of a great end  _and_ beginning, all rolled up in one.

 

Isak hasn’t seen him yet, so Even takes a minute to just look at him. A minute in which he somehow manages to fall for him all over again. In Even’s defence, he’s sure it would be physically impossible not to.

 

Isak is sitting by himself on one end of a bulky couch in the corner of the room -- the other end occupied by a couple of girls who only get a millisecond of notice in Even’s mind before they’re pushed to the side to make space for more important things.

 

The dim lighting in the house makes everything seem a little bit out of focus, blurring the outlines, making them softer. Still, Isak has never been more clear. There’s a lamp on his left side that casts a warm light over the part of his hair and face that it reaches, and Even thinks this right here might get a place in the top ten best sights he’s been presented with, ever.

 

(He can’t be more specific than that though, because the other nine are all Isak too, and Even doesn’t really know how he’s supposed to manage a fair rating when it comes to this, there are too many factors to be considered to make a decision.)

 

Isak has his phone in his hand when Even steps up to him, but his eyes don’t seem to be focused on whatever is on the screen, a faraway look on his face as his thumb rests against the side of the phone, unmoving. It’s not until Even plops down unceremoniously next to him on the couch that Isak shows any sign of noticing him, the way the cushions make him bounce slightly where he sits seeming to startle him out of whatever daydream he had been stuck in.

 

“I thought you were going to a friend’s house?” Even asks, grinning brightly at him. His smile is most likely way too wide to be considered normal, but he can’t find it in him to care in the least. He’s in a good mood now, okay, and on top of that he also hasn’t seen Isak since before Christmas. That’s pretty much an eternity.

 

By the way Isak smiles back, though, Even gets the feeling he might agree.

 

“I was. I  _am_.”

 

“So why are you sitting here alone? What are you doing?”

 

The smile falls, too quickly for Even’s liking, a frown taking its place instead as Isak glances down at his phone again, before shutting off the screen and putting it in the pocket of his jeans. He lets out a sigh and looks at Even again. “Questioning my existence on this spinning orb floating through space.”

 

Even frowns back at him at that. “Are you high?”

 

Isak snorts. “I wish,” he says, making Even let out a small laugh. “No, but... I don’t know. I was just thinking.”

 

Even nods at him, a bit distracted as he’s still unable to look away. This close, the feelings Isak stir up in him just get more intense, and then that persistent thought about possibilities -- of all the different way this night could end, the ways the next day can start -- pushes forward.

 

That’s what this day always does to him; keeps presenting him with ideas and thoughts about closure and going forward and the future and all of the unknown. And it’s nice. It  _is_.

 

He just wishes he could be brave, for once. Brave enough to take a step in the direction he wants the most.

 

There’s silence between them for a moment, then Isak speaks again, a small frown back on his face. “What are  _you_ doing?”

 

“Well, I  _was_ questioning my reason for being at this party,” Even says, and Isak rolls his eyes at him. “But I just got my answer.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“To save you from inevitable disaster.”

 

Isak gives him an unimpressed look, then reaches over to slowly pull up the right sleeve of his sweater, revealing his lower arm to be enveloped in a cast. “Too late.”

 

Even does nothing but stare at him for a few shocked seconds.

 

“ _What?_ What happened?”

 

Isak shrugs. “Skiing accident,” he says, making Even’s eyebrows draw together in disbelief.

 

“You don’t even ski,” Even points out, because Isak has made that  _very_ clear the few times the subject has come up in the past, complaining about having to do it at school once and how it was “literal hell, except, you know,  _freezing_ ”.

 

Now he just rolls his eyes at Even again while nodding towards his injured arm. “Obviously not.”

 

“Why were you even skiing? And when? How did I not know about this until now?” Even has a lot of questions,  _okay_ , because this doesn’t make sense at all.

 

“ _Chill_ , would you? It was with Jonas, like two days ago.”

 

Even still has a confused frown on his face, feels like it’s almost a permanent fixture by now, pausing for another moment before asking, “But  _why?_ ”

 

Isak shrugs again. “He asked.”

 

It’s only two words but they still make Even feel like he just got punched. The fact that Isak would do something he hates just because Jonas had asked him hits him harder than he thought. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing that he would do that, Even is all for new experiences and keeping an open mind. But it’s just that -- it’s just that Isak has never done that for _him_ before, can’t even imagine it happening either. Which means Isak likes Jonas more than him, which in turn means that Even’s ranking of his favourite people in the world with Isak in first place is not mutual like he had hoped it was.

 

The word “crush” suddenly has another, more painful, meaning.

 

The next minute feels like at least ten, and Even gets lost in a battle against his own thoughts, having no idea what to make of this information. Thankfully, Isak interrupts him before it goes on for too long. Before he loses too much.

 

“Or, well, maybe we weren’t really skiing,” Isak starts, and the way he shrugs as he says it, as if it’s nothing, no big deal, contradicts with the insecure tone Even can hear in his voice.

 

Even raises his eyebrows at him. “What?”

 

“I mean,  _maybe_ we were just having a competition about who could slide the furthest on a patch of ice. Or something.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Even repeats.

 

“Also there might have been a skateboard involved.”

 

“Again, I need to ask  _why?_ ”

 

“We were bored,” Isak shrugs.

 

Even stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head incredulously. “If that’s all it takes for you to agree to do stupid shit then I’m getting worried about your estimated lifespan.”

 

“Shut up,” Isak laughs, but Even ignores him.

 

“I’ll have to quit my job and start working as your personal bodyguard slash decision maker if I want to see you reach twenty.”

 

“You don’t even have a job!”

 

“ _That’s_ the part you’re focusing on? Wow, you need me even more than I thought,” Even smirks.

 

Isak waves the comment away. “Yeah, yeah. You can start helping me now by getting me a beer,” he says, pointing in the direction of where Even guesses the kitchen is.

 

“Aren’t you taking any painkillers for that?” Even asks, nodding towards Isak’s arm.

 

“I haven’t taken any since this morning,” he says. “That’s like, over twelve hours ago!” he insists when Even just gives him a look.

 

“Still don’t think you should have any alcohol,” Even decides, making Isak groan, tipping his head against the back of the couch.

 

“ _Fine_. Then just get me a soda or something.”

 

“How about Ibux and some water?”

 

“ _Even!_ Just go,” Isak says, using his uninjured arm to unsuccessfully try to push Even off the couch. Even still stands up, though, then turns to face Isak.

 

“I thought it was your arm that was broken, not your leg?”

 

“Come on, Even. I’m  _hurt_ ,” Isak whines, pouting exaggeratedly and holding up his arm for emphasis. And okay. There’s no way Even could say no to that face. “I need your help, you just said it yourself.”

 

Even shakes his head at him, but he can feel a smile forming on his lips despite trying to stop it. He should know by now that that’s impossible. “I’ll be right back.”

 

And despite how this had seemed to be a foolproof way to end the year on top, that’s actually the the last nice thing that happens, because after leaving the couch, Even doesn’t see Isak again until the clock tips over and leaves December behind.

 

He has no better luck finding his friends either, and while making his way through all the rooms of the house he has no less than  _three_ people spill at least half of whatever drink they are holding on various parts of his body. So, slightly wet and completely  _done_ with this party, he spends the countdown trying to push his way to the front door, only to almost crash into Elias as he comes out of the kitchen right at the strike of midnight.

 

After that, the other boys aren’t far behind, and the start of the new year isn’t that bad, after all.

 

+

 

It’s still missing something, though. Something he doesn’t see again until almost an hour later when he’s, once again, reached a point of having enough of the party and just wants to go home.

 

It comes as a slight shock when he finds Isak out on the porch as he steps out into the January night. Another thing he wasn’t prepared for is the contrast between the temperature of the party compared to out here, which hits him as soon as he opens the door, having him clutch his jacket closer to himself.

 

This time, Isak notices him right away, probably because of the way the sound of the door rings out into the quiet of the night.

 

“Oh, hi,” Isak says, looking just as surprised to see Even as Even was to see him.

 

“You’re still here?”

 

Isak sends a pointed look down at himself. “Yeah, I think so?” he jokes, then his face falls as the realisation seems to hit him. “Oh, right, shit. Sorry,” he stumbles over the words a bit in what’s probably a rush to explain himself. “You know, uh. Things happened and I had to leave the living room for a bit, and then I- I mean, I was gonna come back to find you, but I, uh... forgot. Sorry.”

 

“Hey, it’s fine,” Even assures him, sending him a smile as the silence builds up to take over for another short moment. “So,” he continues, “What did you do?”

 

“Well, you went to get me a drink, right?” Isak starts, waiting until Even nods to go on. “And then this guy sat down next to me and started rambling about shit, he was probably drunk and I wasn’t really listening, so I don’t remember what he said. Well, except he was apparently  _really_ into this whole New Year’s thing and was like, pretty desperate to find someone to kiss at midnight. Kind of reminds me of Magnus actually,” he breaks off his explanation to laugh, probably at something Magnus had said or done, Even guesses, although he doesn’t really pay much attention to that part. “So, yeah, there was the countdown and all that and then I went to find Jonas but he was...  _busy_ ,” he rolls his eyes at the last word. “But I found Magnus and Mahdi instead and then I just lost track of time.”

 

Even nods, but his mind is still stuck on that part in the middle, replaying it on a loop over and over again.

 

_Isak kissed someone at midnight. Isak kissed someone at midnight. Isak kissed someone at midnight. Isak kissed someone at midnight. Isak kissed someone at midnight._

 

Someone who wasn’t  _him_.

 

And fuck, if he thought the year ended bad, it’s nothing compared to this beginning.

 

“What did you do?” Isak asks, but Even doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. Can’t focus on anything else.

 

And he needs to know. He shouldn’t ask, he  _really_ should ask, knows it will only make things worse, will push the knife deeper into his heart. But he  _needs_ to know. This is already bad, going a bit further towards hell won’t make that much of a difference in the end, anyway.

 

Forcing himself to keep his voice calm, he gives Isak a smile that he’s sure just looks forced. “So, how was it?”

 

Isak frowns at him. “How was what?”

 

“The kiss?”

 

Despite the clarification, Isak just seems even more confused for a moment before he raises his eyebrows at Even, disbelief clear on his face.

 

“ _You think I kissed him?_ ”

 

And that sounds like--  _No._ Wait. That doesn’t make sense. And it’s not an answer.

 

“You didn’t?”

 

“No, what the fuck? Why would I?” Isak asks, and he almost sounds angry now, as if Even should know better.

 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Even counters, because he can’t help himself apparently. Can’t just drop it. He’s taken this step now, there’s no going back.

 

Isak rubs a hand over his face, then lets out a deep breath. “Maybe because I don’t wanna kiss a random stranger at midnight  _just because._ ”

 

“Oh.”

 

And yeah, that makes sense, Even supposes.

 

“Did you really think I would do that?”

 

_Yes. No._

 

_But -- why not?_

 

Maybe Even doesn’t have anything to go on suggesting Isak would want to kiss a stranger, but he also doesn’t have anything hinting at the opposite. There’s nothing saying that Isak  _wouldn’t_ want to. So why not?

 

“I don’t know,” Even admits.

 

“Then maybe don’t just assume things.”

 

Even meets his eyes. Takes a breath. “Sorry.”

 

Isak sighs again. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”

 

The quiet is back, filling the space between them as Even tries to shake off all the negative feelings still surrounding him.

 

Okay. They’re okay, now.

 

A lone explosion goes off as the sky fills with colour -- one last straggling attempt at celebrating the new year -- and Even wonders why anyone would set off fireworks this long after midnight. What’s the point of doing it now, when it’s too late?

 

Although --

 

Better late than never.

 

He watches the sky turn dark again, pushes the past few minutes away. But there’s still one persistent thought that keeps bothering him, so he lets it out.

 

“I can’t believe I started the new year fighting with you.”

 

Isak rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t a fight.”

 

“Still.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Isak decides firmly. “Listen, it’s only been like an hour, we could easily pretend this happened last year. And we haven’t gone to bed yet, so it’s kind of still New Years Eve.”

 

Fuck, Even loves him so much.

 

There’s a part of him that still wants to fight it, protest, because  _that’s not how it works you can’t just invent new rules you can’t change solid facts about time like this_ , but he tries to ignore it.

 

He holds on to Isak’s words instead, and he has no chance of stopping the smile that forms on his face because of them. Not that he wants to, anyway.

 

“Yep,” Isak continues with a nod. “I’ve decided the new year starts right now. At,” he pauses to get his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “1.22 in the morning.”

 

And that’s it. Even can’t take it anymore, so he closes the distance between them in three long steps, then pulls Isak into a crushing hug. The force of it almost makes Isak tip over, but Even holds on tight.

 

“See,” Isak laughs. “This is a much better start of the new year.”

 

“The best,” Even corrects. “Thank you,” he whispers. Isak answers by tightening his grip around Even’s waist.

 

Even holds on to Isak, holds on to his words, holds on to this night.

 

And, so, okay. This year might have started late but at least it’s here now. It’s here and this is exactly where he wants to be. The air is so cold but Isak is warm and Even thinks about this feeling, thinks about what he wants and how to get it.

 

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, doesn’t really care about time anymore, but either way it’s over sooner than he would’ve liked.

 

(To be honest, though, even if he hugs Isak for the rest of his life it still probably wouldn’t be enough.)

 

The door opens again, then closes with a loud bang that seems to echo in the silence.

 

“Okay, Issy, let’s go!” comes Jonas’ voice, effectively breaking them apart. “Hey, Even,” he adds when their eyes meet.

 

“Right.” Isak clears his throat, then turns to Even again. “Maybe we can hang out tomorrow? Or, technically it’s today. But after we’ve slept.”

 

Even just smiles at him. “Yeah.”

 

“I’ll text you tomorrow when I wake up?” Isak says before Jonas grabs onto his arm to pull him down the few steps of the porch.

 

“So at like three?” Even smirks as Isak turns back around to flip Even off.

 

“ _Ha-ha_. You know, I might do a lot of new and life-changing things this year, but getting up before noon unless I absolutely have to is not one of them.”

 

Even laughs, then watches Jonas pull on Isak’s arm again.

 

“Hey!” Isak exclaims as the two of them start walking away from the house. “ _Easy_. It’s still broken, asshole.”

 

“That’s your other arm, idiot.”

 

Even smiles to himself as they keep bickering, then turn a corner and disappear out of view.

 

This night might not have worked out like he wanted, or expected, and he didn’t handle the situations he ended up in as well as he could, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a new year now, full of blank pages for him to fill.

 

And he knows exactly how to do it.

  


_\+ i._

 

Even is late. Dinner with his parents had turned into dinner  _and dessert and a movie_ with his parents, which means he had underestimated the amount of time he would spend at their place. Which in turn is why he’s sprinting up the stairs to the apartment Isak shares with Eskild and Linn, taking two steps at a time as he crosses his fingers he won’t slip and fall.

 

But at least he made it in time. With twelve minutes to spare, at that.

 

He has a plan this year. He’s wanted this for five years, missed five chances. But not this time. This year’s plan is to not let Isak out of his sight. The circumstances are different now --  _better_ \-- and his plan is flawless. There’s no way he’s going to fail.

 

When he finally arrives and pulls open the door, the party is in full swing, but he barely has time to step inside before he has an armful of Isak, warm lips pressing against his cold ones.

 

“Hi,” Isak smiles when he pulls back.

 

Even smirks. “You couldn’t have waited ten minutes to do that?”

 

“I think I’ve waited enough,” Isak says, then gives him another kiss, short but just as sweet as the first one. “Also,” he adds, “who says I can’t do it now  _and_ in ten minutes?”

 

“You’re so smart,” Even grins.

 

“Speaking of smart, I have to show you something,” Isak tells him. He doesn’t wait for a response from Even, instead grabbing ahold of his hand and leading him straight to his room. Even greets their friends as well as he can in the few seconds they spend in the living room before Isak closes his bedroom door behind them.

 

Much to Even’s disappointment, Isak lets go of his hand as soon as they’re inside, instead moving to look through the clothes on the floor, then crawling onto his bed to search the blankets as well, apparently looking for something. It’s only then that Even really takes in Isak’s appearance, his mind too occupied with kisses or being too close to get a good look before. The shirt he’s wearing is Even’s favourite on him, and that alone should be enough of an acceptable reason for Even’s next move.

 

Isak jumps slightly as Even puts a hand on his shoulder, too focused on his search to notice him moving, but then turns around on the bed to face him. Even wastes no time in bringing their mouths together, slowly lowering himself half on top of Isak as the kiss gets deeper.

 

And  _this_ , Even thinks. This is how it’s done.

 

The kiss turns into kisses -- two, three, four, a hundred; he’s not counting. And Even loses himself in them, loses track of time. It can’t be that much later then Isak pulls back, though, a cute frown on his face.

 

“Wait, I actually wanted to show you something.”

 

Even raises an eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing down at Isak’s crotch.

 

Isak rolls his eyes. “Not that,” he says, and Even just gives him a look. “Not  _now_ , at least.”

 

Even is just about to lean down once more -- because  _yes_  now -- when he's interrupted by a knock on the door, making both of them turn towards the sound.

 

“Isak?” comes Jonas’ voice, slightly muffled through the door. And of course Jonas is interrupting them this year, too. At least there are a few important differences between the two situations.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“The countdown is in five minutes, so we’re all going outside now,” he says. “You guys coming?”

 

Even snorts at the choice of word, making Isak shake his head at him before answering Jonas.

 

“Yeah, just a second,” he calls out, then they can hear the noises of their friends become softer as they move further and further away, eventually leaving the apartment altogether.

 

“So,  _are_ we coming?” Even smirks at him when Isak faces him again.

 

Isak laughs. “ _Stop_. I just need to find my phone so I can show you that thing.”

 

“‘ _That thing_ ’?” Even repeats, but Isak doesn’t elaborate. “Okay, but hold on. If you’re gonna keep looking for it we’re gonna be here forever, so I’m just gonna call you, okay?” Even says, leaning his weight over on one elbow so he can use the hand of his other arm to get his phone out of his jeans pocket.

 

The room is silent for a beat before a distinct buzzing can be heard from somewhere on the floor behind Even. Turning to look, he easily finds Isak’s phone stuck in the middle of a book, seemingly acting as a sort of bookmark. Even turns the book over, putting it down again so it’s split open on the page where the phone was, then hands the phone over to Isak, who presses a few things on it before showing the screen to Even.

 

Even takes a moment to just look between the screen and Isak’s smiling face.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Yeah.” Isak’s smile grows even wider, and  _fuck it_. Even leans over to kiss him again, and the next minute, hour, day,  _year_ is a blur of nothing but Isak, Isak, Isak, all up until his mind suddenly reminds him of the time constraints.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily, trying to get his focus away from Isak, if only for a couple of seconds. “What time is it?”

 

“Uh,” Isak starts, before picking up his phone from somewhere between the sheets where he dropped it earlier. He winces slightly as he looks at it. “0.03.”

 

Even closes his eyes in disappointment. He had a plan,  _damn it_.

 

“Are you saying we missed it?”

 

Isak nudges his chin with his index finger to make Even meet his eyes again. “Hey, it’s okay. There’s always next year,” he reassures him with a smile, and -- okay.

 

That’s true. He still has next year. And the year after that. And all the following ones as well, if he has anything to say about it.

 

And despite still not getting that kind of perfect transition between two years that he’s always wanted, always wished for, strived for, he doesn’t know how it could get any better than this anyway. With the stupid sounds of fireworks exploding in the sky above them, exploding inside of him -- burning through him and leaving him warm and excited and ready.

 

Ready for the next part of his life. Starting now. And then tomorrow -- with him and Isak, on a plane heading for sun and thirty degrees and a break in time where they’re untouchable.

 

Still, though. He’s not giving up completely.

 

He smiles back, leans down to press a kiss to Isak’s cheek, then nods. Repeats Isak’s words like a promise. “There’s always next year.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! ♥♥♥
> 
> and happy new year!! sending u all love, i hope youll have a great 2019 ♥
> 
> im always bored, come say [hi](http://isakissyvaltersen.tumblr.com) if u want
> 
> ((also in case anyone is wondering, i havent given up on [and it falls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11638149/chapters/26176341), ok? i promise i will finish it. hoping for 2019 guys!! fingers crossed))


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